Angel
by newtsdiangelo
Summary: Maybe it was the toss of your hair, the gleam in your eyes, or how, when you laughed, he could feel it right to his bones. (One Shot)


**Disclaimer: I don't own the cover image, Percy Jackson and the Olympians, or the Heroes of Olympus, or any of the characters/plot from the series. But I think that's pretty obvious.**

(just a little one shot i wrote at 2 AM. Nico di Angelo is a cutie, and I regret nothing.)

(it's short, sue me.)

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><p><span>Angel<span>

_Cause all that you are,_

_Is all that I'll ever need;_

__-__**Ed Sheeran**

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><p>Nico di Angelo was in love.<p>

His lips quirked up into a half-smile as he felt you shift around in his arms slightly before settling down again with a contented sigh, resting your cheek on his shoulder, your head nestled comfortably into the crook of his neck as the two of you stared up at the numerous silver constellations littering the vast, midnight sky like dancing leaves on a sidewalk.

It was one of those seemingly endless nights, in which time seemed to stand as still as if it had been frozen by Kronos himself, and the both of you could think of nothing you'd rather be doing.

You smiled as you raised your hand to point at one in particular. "Look, there's Zoe's. Right there."

He followed your finger with his gaze, and it was indeed the huntress, her arrow drawn taut. His smile mirrored yours as he rested his chin on your head, inhaling your peach-scented shampoo and feeling the grass tickle his cheeks.

_Nico di Angelo was in love_.

He wasn't sure when exactly he'd realised it; or how it came to be (but he was quite certain that he was). It wasn't one of those things that had just _happened _without warning, not like a sudden revelation or a bolt of lightning, or a quick snap of Aphrodite's fingers. It had been gradual, and in a way, he guessed that it'd sort of just crept up on him.

He couldn't exactly explain why he was, but at the same time, he could give you a million different reasons, like how he felt sunflowers blooming in the cracks between his ribs every time you smiled. (not very characteristic of a son of Hades, but you were turning him soft.)

And maybe it was because you were the only person other than Calypso to ever really laugh at all of Leo's infuriatingly cheesy jokes (as annoying as they were), or the way your teeth grazed your lip as you bit it in concentration when you were aiming your arrow at the heart of a practice dummy, your eyes ablaze with determination and your grip unfaltering. Maybe he liked how you preferred to have pizza in the morning and breakfast foods for dinner, and how you never made him feel like a failure, even when he was failing. Maybe it was the toss of your hair, the gleam in your eyes; or how, when you laughed, he could feel it right to his bones.

Maybe it was how you understood him in a way that no one else ever could.

"Go to sleep, angel," he murmured softly as he heard you yawn, the sound getting lost in the night breeze. (You often asked him why he called you _angel_, his namesake, when it probably should have been the other way around. He never gave you a straight answer.)

You merely gave a soft hum in reply, burying your face deeper into his neck, and he could feel your muscles relax against his body.

"Promise you'll carry me back to my cabin if I do?"

Nico knew you were thinking about how worried your siblings would be when they woke up to find your bed empty, the soft white sheets bare and cold. He also knew that you didn't really care.

Chuckling, he nodded, his chin brushing the top of your head. "Promise." He never really intended on keeping that promise.

You finally relented, your sleepy eyelids drooping shut, and he smiled, because you could never resist giving in to him.

Sometimes, other people spoke about how the people they loved never failed to take their breath away, but with you, it was different. True, when he'd first met you, you'd left him breathless, along with multiple times after that, but now, it was just the opposite, actually. But that was okay, in fact, it was good. It was good, to be around someone who filled his lungs with air.

He called you his saving grace, his sanity. You kept him anchored, you kept him from floating away when it all became too much to bear.

To him, you were a narcotic, but at the same time, a remedy.

"Goodnight, Deathboy," he heard you mumble into his ear (taking advantage of the fact that you were the only person he wouldn't have punched for calling him that), your cool breath making shivers run up his spine like electric currents.

And as he laid there on the grass with you falling asleep slowly in his embrace, your hair tickling his jawline and the speckles of stars glittering above you like diamonds, he thought that he quite liked the feeling of being in love.

"Goodnight, angel."

;;;

(yep, i totally just used a reference from landline in there.)

(reviews make me happier than free food!)


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